The Park

Roaming the streets between 87th & 79th...Kedzie to Western...took alot out of you...as a kid...stumbling about, nothing but sheer stupidity on our sides, back then...

And, there were just endless amounts of games of sports, always in high gear, on any given day...up at the park or on any space of land...where a loud clatter and a scramble of bodies, bounced all around, always on the verge of bloody mayhem...

My good buddy, Johnny Fitzpatrick, kept a whole boatload of baseball gloves and bats, strewn about his dusty garage...ready for action. John lived right off of the park, and I was quite envious of his proximity to all things, park-related...

Of course, my sisters & brothers would remind me, we too, lived right off the park, a block north of Johnny Fitz's, on 84th Place, but our house got too cramped with 8 kids...so we moved about 3 blocks south, after I was born, to 86th Street, in 1963...All my sisters & brothers, were big, PARK KIDS, only 6 houses down, from the park...A kid's paradise, just a heartbeat away...

I can remember, one particular baseball game...up at the park, one Spring, when I was 11 years old, I was the pitcher...I seemed to always be the pitcher for our slow-pitch, lob-league action...Well, this big, gangly kid, named Craig, stepped up to the plate, and slammed one, right back at me...whizzing it over my head, almost scraping my baseball cap...Damn, he could get a shot of power outta that bat...

Next time up, everyone is laughing, daring Craig, to do it again, rip it up the middle, and take my head, clean off, this time...All my friends eyes are wide open, awaiting every pitch...

Crack....!!!...

Not only did Craig, get every single ounce of wood on that pitch, but it was a sizzling, blistering guided missle, headed right for my face....We are talking about only a split second, in time, to react, but I did manage, to throw my glove up, in front of my face, as the ball, slammed hard into my mitt, with a thunderous "Smack!"....making me all ghostly & woozy, sending all the rest of the bunch of kids into hysterics.

There I was, completely white as a ghost, opening my mitt, my hand still stinging, trying to pry the baseball wedged into my mitt, stuck in there, like Crazy Glue...Everyone, is falling down laughing, because the knew damn well, Craig, would be taking aim again, sooner or later, in a couple of innings...

I think, at that point, I decided to call in for the bullpen to take over...when everyone on my team, suddenly realized their noggin' was next...So they decided to quit playing for the day...sending anger & outrage throughout our mangy field of dreams...A field dotted with a smashed beer can for 1st base...somebody's little league cap for 2nd base...a crummy left-handed mitt, for 3rd base...and maybe someone's windbreaker crumbled up for Home Plate.

Let's face it, everyone had a crazy hang-out as a kid...a park or gym or empty lot...anywhere was possible...all you needed was your enthusiasm, and your imagination...Kids need places, where they can cut loose and get goofy...

And it was the same for us...up at Carroll Park...

Every single one of my close friends, will tell you how that park, so green & grassy, is truly a part of them, no matter what...what ever happens to them...Whether it be Fitz or Moodo, Bob, Don, Slim, Joe, Murph, Denny, Bar, Kevin, Neil, Duff, Marty Eck & Marty Rogers, Buckets, Bucky, Jimmy "Lemon" Ade, Mike "Mugs" Mulligan, Mike Powers, and lots, lots more...a hush falls over all of us, as a flood of olden times cascade down from our minds...of that wild, ballyhoo bunch of crazies, every single one of us, tearing it up, with reckless abandon...

We just had a ball...every single, day...sleeting snow, monsoon rains, blistering heat, cold beyond cold, you name it...each definitive moment only intensified our whole being, with that giant park's hold on our memories...past and present...exuding a special charm, we felt so deeply, just a captivating, magical feel to it...that brings forth a smile...with any notion...

It was a quiet oasis, amidst the hustle and bustle, all around...It had lots of trees, baseball diamonds, swings & a sandbox for the kiddies...and a big old football field, in the middle, where some rompin', stompin' dynamite heroics were boundlessly displayed...Just a nice, happy atmosphere, all the way around...It seemed every kid in the neighborhood popped in up there, at some point and all us kids from each grade, had a special park bench, designated for us, to call our own...

And one special guy, headed the Park District, up there at Carroll Park, his name was RICH....This guy Rich, in his late 30's/early 40's, commanded our ultimate respect, because he drew the line in the sand, with all the non-sense, we thought we could get away with...Rich had this striking bald head, and an eagle beak-type nose, a true hearty Croatian, thru & thru...and you did not want the wrath of Rich, headed your way...Ohhhh no...

He'd slap you upside the head, real good, for acting goofy and he had this tin whistle, attached to a skinny leather strap, he twirled around as he walked all about...That leather strap, Rich would lash out, at any moment, at any instigator, would only sting for a moment or two, but it left a deep red welt, that let you know, Rich meant business...

But everyone liked to kidd with Rich anyway, as we got older & older, and punkier & punkier. We always had and always will have the upmost respect for Rich...He was the referee, the umpire, the wrestling instructor, softball league organizer...You name it, Rich had it down cold. He was the best damn Park Instructor anywhere, and we were damn lucky we didn't get our lights punched out, if he heard us swear...

So many memories, of so many kids...The P.I.T.A. kids...(Pain In The Ass)...were 2 years older than us...and they were just a monsterous throng of kids, up at the park, led by Scott Clifford...Alot of my future buddies, a year older than us...Eddy Epper, The Funk, Jack McManus, Coon, Gert, Matt Bailey, Dave Scalise, Wally, Mike Murphy, Jack Cusack, Danny Casey, Dirks, Danny Olsen, Kevin Delaney, Bram and Johnny "Hop" Howland...all were crazy nuts...leaving my bunch of friends, thinking we were woefully inferior...and never, ever gonna be as cool as the older guys...

And all the girls were up there, too...hanging out...They had their jean jackets & smokes & wild hair & they all had endless laughs at all the foolishness, happening everywhere...Those were giddy times, full of bright smiles & silly clumsiness, trying to stay cool, almost too darn cool for our own good.

We all thought, all us girls & boys, thought we made hanging out, an art form, bumming smokes, losing lighters, listening to music on boom boxes, calling each other funny names...just an age of silly innocence...rolling on by...quicker than we could ever realize...

All up at this park...a place of refuge, of sports heroics, of first big kisses, of beers endlessly sprayed open, of lolly-gagging, drop-dead, funny laughter....ohhh the laughter...just priceless high-pitched laughter...from silly kids...growing up way, way too fast...but still having a blast...

Back in the day...Carroll Park inevitably became Hayes Park...an evolution of kids from the 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's...yonder years of wild mischief & mayhem, we truly hold so sparkly dear inside our hearts...to this very fleeting moment...and almost every day....in our passing lives...and beyond...